Breathe
by Inscribed-on-my-heart
Summary: A Harry/Draco multi-chaptered fic. Warnings for slash/self harm.   Harry and Draco have retuned to Hogwarts after the war, for a sort of '8th year' and they find in each other an unlikely companionship.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

**Hey all!**

**This is a Harry/Draco story, so you have been warned!**

**Also, warnings for self harm, violence and angst.**

**So, enjoy and please review!**

**IOMH x**

I was sitting on the train, on the trip back to Hogwarts I never thought I'd take. I was sharing a compartment with the usual friends. Hermione was reading a _Transfiguration Today_ magazine in the corner, Ron and Neville were playing exploding snap and Ginny was sitting with Luna talking about the latest fashions.

But I just sat, gazing out of the window at the ever-changing countryside. No-one disturbed me, for which I was somewhat grateful. But this feeling of peace was marred by the fact I knew they were doing it because they pitied me. The war was over. Tom was now just a memory, an awful, bloodied memory but I still felt each death like it was yesterday. The only comfort I had was that I stopped Riddle before anyone else could die. I was to blame for all of those deaths, if only I had stopped him sooner...

Hermione, typically, did some reading and told me I was suffering from survivor's guilt. I guess she's right, but it seems stronger than that, it runs deeper than that this feeling is in my very blood, clawing at my skin.

Now, I have reporters following me, wanting to know how I did it, how I saved the Wizarding world from the Dark Lord. I had Hermione read a statement for me when I was ready and that is all I have released, all I want to share. The final battle for me was heart shattering, a far to intimate thing to have splashed all over the papers.

My friends and others around me have realized something is wrong. According to them I have 'lost my spark.' In a way I guess they are right, I don't quite feel anything anymore, if you can't feel you can't hurt.

I stand up and out of the corner of my eye; I see a flash of pity on Hermione's face. As much as I appreciate everything she has done for me, the last thing I want is her pity.

"I'm going for a walk.' I announce, I say it clearly, not loudly but everyone turns to look all the same. It is not a question, it is a statement and they al seem to understand because no-one questions my motives.

"Alright mate," that's Ron, his anger has been flaring up much more now the war is over and I am pleased that for today at least he has reined it in.

I walk to the door and gently slide it open before slipping into the corridor. I start to walk towards the front of the scarlet engine, not really paying much attention to where I was going. I catch my reflection as I pass a window and smile softly. After everything had died down once Tom was dead, Hermione had started pushing me to go shopping. I finally agreed, and ended up buying a whole new wardrobe, and replacing my old glasses with sleek, rectangular frames. It never bothered me before, but maybe how I look was is now thing that makes me get out of bed each day, a motive to push me forward. Vanity, how sad. I fixed my hair before continuing on my way.

I looked up suddenly, my hand immediately going to my wand as I run into something solid. Old habits die hard I guess and I remember Mad-Eyes' famous saying of 'constant vigilance!' but his even his memory hurts now, like the memories of the rest of the innocent.

I find that the solid thing was Malfoy, but what shocked me was the fact I wasn't currently hexed, bleeding on the floor.

You see, I killed Malfoy Senior in the final battle, ending his life with a flick of my wand.

It almost felt good to kill him, the though still chills me to the bone, the idea that, not only did I murder but I enjoyed doing it.

But Malfoy just looked at me, his emotionless mask on as always.

"I wanted to say thank you." He said this without his usual cockiness, but still with that famous Malfoy clarity and eloquence. I was shocked to say the least.

"Why would you thank me?" I also kept my voice neutral, not wanting to give away too much, but I was curious all the same.

"For killing my father."

Now this shook me, I would do anything to have my parents alive, and here was a man standing before me, thanking me for murdering his own father, his own flesh and blood! But I manage to keep my cool.

"Why on earth would you want to do that, you have every right to hex me right now for what I did."

He turned and began to walk away, just as I thought my question would never be answered, he stopped. He tilted is head over his shoulder, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Because with my father gone, I can finally breathe."

I gave a nod, our eyes met and in that moment, we understood each other in our entirety, the eyes are the windows' to the soul after all...

My walked finished there and I headed back to my compartment, one thought playing over and over again in my mind, 'I can finally breathe.'

I arrived back, Hermione looked like she was about to question me, when a magical voice drifted through the train announcing that we would soon arrive at the castle and that it was time to change into our robes. I took my robes from my trunk, before going to find a bathroom where I could have some privacy. If Hermione saw the cuts on my arms, she would ask questions, questions to which I do not have the answers.

I slipped into an empty toilet and changed into my school uniform. Normally, I would seek the same solace I had felt in previous years changing into the normal Wizarding attire. But this year, when I walked into the Great Hall, all I would see is the blank faces of the dead staring up at me.

As I went back to the compartment to sit out the rest of the journey with my companions, the look Malfoy had given me crossed my mind. Thinking about it again, I understood. He felt what I did; nothing.

When we arrived at Hogsmeade, it was pitch black, not a star to be seen. But us older students lit our wands and made our way to the carriages. Most of us '8th years' could see the threstles, some for the first time, and a feeling of great loss swept over the group.

I was right, the moment I stepped foot in the Great Hall, my insides turned to ice. The guilt consumed me, squeezing me until I couldn't breathe. I kept my cool and walked rigidly over to the Gryffindor table. Hermione had noticed something was up "are you alright?" She asked, once again with that damn look of pity in her eyes.

I gave a brief nod, before turning to look at Headmistress McGonagall who was hushing the students.

After the sorting and the feast, the headmistress asked the eighth years to stay behind. We convened at the front of the room, and there McGonagall told us we would now all be sharing a common room as a year group, and our dorms were also accessible through this common space. Ron muttered darkly about sharing his room with 'death-eater scum' before Hermione stomped on his foot. We were taken to our new rooms, which were located on the 5th floor, behind a portrait of a centaur, who introduced himself as Blaine. The password 'di storia ripetizioni mai*' granted us access to a cavernous room, decorated majestically in purple and gold.

There were desks along one wall, armchairs by a monster fireplace and a window seat along the massive windows that made up one wall. I knew that in daylight, it would show a beautiful view over the lake and forest. Beautiful, that is, if you think beauty is merely a pretty picture.

To the right was a staircase leading to the boys' dorm, the same for the girls on the left.

"Your dorms are arranged in pairs, you be with someone from outside your own house. No Mr. Weasly, I assure you I am not lying." She said, noticing Ron's furious expression. I hoped for the sake of the sanity of all of us that Ron was not with a Slytherin

I shrugged; I did not really want to be with Ron anyway, he was far too loud, ignorant and quite honestly a bit stupid sometimes. I was the first to ascend the staircase, finding my name on the third door on the left. I was to share with Malfoy.

This bothered me for a moment, but then I saw the benefits, remembering our exchange on the train. He would respect my silence and I his. With that thought I pushed open a door to find a room decorated in green, which I was impassive to. It has two ornate mahogany desks, two beds, wardrobes etc. The crowning feature was a magnificent marble fireplace and two soft armchairs. The room was elegant and I liked it at once. I also noted that it was south facing, so we would see the setting sun in the evenings, an added bonus. The door that must lead to the bathroom was on the far side of the room.

Malfoy choose that moment to come in. We did not speak; just exchanged another look, a look of understanding. Yes, I do believe this will work out.

The next morning, I noticed Malfoy had risen earlier than I, and was using the bathroom. I sat in one of the armchairs to wait, nervous about what was to come. I knew the looks I would receive would bother me.

When will people realize I am not he hero of this war? Questions will be asked, my skills will be critiqued and some will be out for blood.

Malfoy walks out of the bathroom, his uniform and robes perfect, he obviously spent a long time pampering. I have to admit he is beautiful, I had known I was gay for a couple of months now, the Wizarding press had a field day. Hermione and the Weasley's accepted it without question, Charlie himself was gay and he helped me come to terms with it. On the whole, it was accepted, moved on and so, eventually did the media.

I still kept up correspondence with Charlie, he was like the elder brother I never had, an unbiased point of view that saw me as Harry, not the savior of the Wizarding world.

"Good morning." His greeting is formal, but I do not mind.

"Morning," I call over my shoulder as I enter the bathroom. The hot water of the shower relaxes my tense muscles. I get dressed with care; today I wear a red shirt and smart black pants under my robes. I exit the bathroom to find Draco in an armchair reading. He bookmarks the page with a wave of his wand and stands when he sees me.

"I thought we could walk to breakfast together." I am slightly taken aback by his offer, but I have put my old rivalries behind me now, they seem so petty after all that happened during the war. So I nod, and together we walk down the stairs and make our way to the Great Hall.

Ron spies me coming in with Malfoy and elbows Hermione who is sitting next to him. He looks mad, but Hermione just raises a curious eye brow as I approach. I lightly touch Malfoys' hand as we part; it is warm and soft beneath my fingers. I see his hand flinch to his wand at the contact, but relaxes as he turns to me.

"Thanks, Draco." I say, wanting to express my gratitude for his understanding, his silent show of support. His new feels new on my tongue, but new in a good way.

"Harry," he nods, smiling slightly, it lights up his face, and I return with a small smile of my own. It has been a long time since I have smiled and for some strange reason with Draco I can't help but feel warm.

I continue on to the Gryffindor table, and sit opposite Hermione and Ron. My hot-headed best friend is the first to speak 'Why were you with Malfoy?" He spits out the name with disgust. This angers me, is he really going to be bothered by such a petty rivalry?

"Draco," I say, putting emphasis on the use of his first name, "Draco and I share a room, and I have found him to be perfectly amicable." I know I sounded snotty, but I could care less. Ron choked on his pumpkin juice when I called him Draco.

"Since when have you called him Draco?" He growled.

"Since I decided to grow up," I shot back.

I grabbed a pastry of the table and rose from my seat. "I will see you guys in transfiguration," I said before turning and walking out of the Hall, craving some peace and quiet. I felt a pair of eyes follow me, and looked up to see Draco hurriedly look down at his toast. I smiled softly; maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all. I had, after all, already genuinely smiled more today than I had for the past three months.

I wandered up to the common room, but as I approached the portrait I saw Ginny standing there. I sighed, I had told Ginny I was gay and not interested but she simply refused to let me be. I forced a smile on my face as I neared the fiery read-head, but I am sure it looked more like a grimace.

"Harry!" Her chirpy voice almost painfully sugar-sweet. "How are you? Who are you sharing a room with? Are you..." She trailed off as I interrupted her drivel.

"Hey Ginny, I am fine, thank you. I am sharing a room with Draco and if you don't mind I need to get my books for my first class as I am sure you need to as well." I kept my voice neutral and my answer basic as I did not want to do anything to lead her on by mistake. She pouted and I pushed past her, said the password and entered the common room.

It was so nice to have some quiet, I had forgotten how noisy Hogwarts really was and I missed the solace I found in silence, I settled in a chair by the roaring fireplace, settling in to enjoy my last bit of silence for the day. I groaned internally hearing the portrait swing open, but looked around to see Draco. He came over and sat in the wing-backed chair beside me. We did not need to say anything; the silence was more reassuring than anything we could articulate.

When the others started to come back in, interrupting our peace, we stood as one and went to collect our books. I held the door of our rooms for him and was rewarded with one of his small smiles.

We collected our transfiguration books before heading to class. Whispers followed us wherever we went, muttering about this new 'friendship' between the famous Harry Potter and a Death Eater. But we ignored them all, our hands occasionally brushing as we walked shoulder to shoulder, us against them. As we entered the classroom, Draco went to sit with Parkinson and Zabini, while I went over to where Hermione and Ron were saving me a seat.

Ron had turned a delicate shade of red, obviously angry about me and Draco's companionship. Hermione lent over to me and whispered.

"It was nice to see you smile this morning."

I looked at her, and was pleased to see that her eyes were empty of their usual pity. I turned to face the front as McGonagall entered and began to call the role, somewhat comforted by the fact that at least Hermione understood.

I soon found out that Hermione was sharing with Parkinson. I was especially pleased to hear that they were now calling each other by their first names; hopefully Ron would take a leaf out of his girlfriends' book.

Ron was sharing with Ernie Macmillan; I am pleased to note the teachers had the sense not to put him with a Slytherin. Sometimes Ron really could be a brat.

In the evening, I sat in the room me and Draco shared, enjoying the silence as I complete a potions essay.

But I find solace in the beauty of silence and pain. When it is silent, I feel I can breathe easy, without being weighed down by the expectations of others, pain makes my feel and the blood welling up on my fore-arm is my payment for my sins. I gently take the knife from my trunk, and create a fresh wound on my arm, reveling in the burning sensation, knowing I deserve it. The Scarlett drops, like tiny rubies cascades over pearly white skin, fall into my lap, staining the cloth that lie there.

But my delicate bliss is shattered like thin glass when I hear the door click; I cast a quick healing charm on my arm and appeared to be reading a book that had been left on the coffee table as Draco walks in.

I turn, not being able to hold back I let out a gasp.

"Draco, what happened to your face?" I ask the blond-haired man. His face was bruised, and I could see a fresh cut running from his jaw bone, the blood disappearing out of sight under his once white shirt, which was rapidly turning red with blood.

"Someone thought it would be amusing to pay me back for what my father did." He replied blandly. "I would go for Pomfrey, but I can't stand the pity." I nodded, having been in the same situation myself on previous occasions.

He turned to sit on his bed, before conjuring a basin of warm water and a cloth, and removing his soiled shirt. He began to bathe the cut, but I interrupted.

'Why not use a spell?"

He blushed slightly, "I have never really mastered healing, and enjoy having all my limbs" I chuckled lightly, before standing and crossing the room to sit beside him.

The silver-eyed Slytherin's eye widened as I take the cloth and begin to wash his cut myself, but he does not object. I do not know my self why I did it, it simply felt right. After the cut is clean, the water in the basin has turned a sickly red. I bash it and the cloth before casting healing charms on the laceration and the bruising, which both heal immediately.

Draco had flinched when I had originally drawn my wand, but now he reached up to feel where previously there had been injury.

"Thank you," he murmured gently, I nod stand from my current position next to him.

As I stepped back, I raked my eyes over the Ice Princes figure, and I must admit he was beautiful, with good not extreme muscle definition and collar bones to die for. I felt warmth flood me and unconsciously stepped away, shaking my head before turning back to the fire.

Why was Draco Malfoy, my ex arch nemesis, the only one who could make me feel, the only one to make me smile?

I realized I had been holding my breath, as was my habit when stressed. I stopped and consciously had to remind myself.

Breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey all, sorry that this has not been updated for so long, I took a hiatus but am now back set on writing fanfic. I am a little unsure as to where this story is going, and while this chapter may have a sense on being final it isn't quite yet :) This story is one I want to use to convey some ideas that have a slightly more philosophical tinge – but will have to wait and see.**

**Enjoy! IOMH x**

The next few weeks passed in much the same way, I slowly got used to the whispers, the sidelong glances.

What I did not get used to was the days, of which there were far too many, where Draco would come back to the room somehow wounded.

But maybe the cuts and bruises were a gift in a twisted way. Before the war I had always had a 'cause', something to investigate and pour my energy into. This would provide the perfect distraction.

It started off with just walking Draco to class when possible. He got angry at first, even raising his voice to tell me he was not a 'defenceless lamb.' I won that argument, after all – ten against one are poor odds even though the blonde Syltherin had admirable skills. But one night when I found my roommate knocked unconscious in an alcove I was fortunate enough to be passing, my blood boiled.

Anger, I smiled softly as I leant over Draco to revive him. It felt so good to have something burning through my veins. As I drew my wand to cast the necessary charm, I paused briefly to look at the face of my one-time enemy. His porcelain skin marred not only by the fresh purple bruises littering his cheeks, but a hard look that never seemed to leave his elegant cheekbones. For one instant, my self-control collapsed and a tear fell softly down my cheek. I shifted my balance slightly and kissed the unconscious boys temple. His skin was soft yet I ignored the stirring in my gut.

'Now is so not the time.' I thought.

I gently revived the blonde, blushing slightly as I thought about what I had just done as he was comatose. What would he say if he knew? Disgust would adorn his face I'll bet.

He started upright when he realized where he was.

"Father?" He muttered, shielding his face with a hand.

I gently touched his shoulder, the unsurprising reaction being to flinch away.

"It's me, Harry. I found you here, unconscious, how do you feel."

He looked at me then, eyes slightly misted. But what happened next I never could have anticipated. A gentle hand came up to touch my face, brushing away the tear that still lingered on my cheek.

"Harry," his voice cracked. Then he leant forward and touched his lips to mine.

It was gentle at first, a brush at best. But then it became almost desperate. His fingers came up to tangle themselves in my hair as mine slipped around his waist. He slumped against the wall behind him and I over balanced and ended up straddling his waist, never breaking the kiss. The hunger within us poured into the other as tongues fought for dominance.

When we broke apart, panting, I tried to think. Tried to slow the rush of blood away from my brain for just a second and think about the fact Draco Malfoy, ice prince, just kissed me! But said prince just chuckled breathlessly beneath me.

"Don't think for once Harry. That is all either of us seem to do, for once, just feel."

So I did, my brain went blank as I leaned forward to recapture his lips with my own. He tasted… incredible, fresh. Like a curious mix of fruit and musk, wrapped up in something purely Draco. He bit down on my bottom lip s his hand fluttered along my collarbone, eliciting a moan from my bruised lips. I pulled away to pout indignantly, and we both laughed together.

Yes, some would say it happened to fast, we had only just made 'friends.' But to us, in that moment it felt right.

Me and him had a long way to go, many things were still locked deep inside that had to be dug out. But in that moment of shared breath something important happened. The realization that we were on the same page and that, together.

We could learn to breathe.


End file.
